Necromancy
by RandomTopic
Summary: UNDEFINED HIATUS Skimming, Harry felt his eyebrows raise. “This is a page on necromancy.” Salazar nodded. “Why would I want to be alive again?” Time travel is overused, but not to the founders era. Welcome, Harry, to the year 978... Eventual SalazarHarry.
1. Chapter 1: Silver Spirit

**Title: Necromancy**

**Original Title: Spirit of Hogwarts**

**Author: Soelle**

**Challenger: Blackest Grim**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize, J. K. Rowling does. I just own the plot.**

**Chapter Rating: T**

**Summery: Poor, poor Harry. After he died, he was sent to the past as a spirit. Now he has to help the founders with Hogwarts. Well, maybe he'll get something out of it too… (SalazarHarry) Time Travel.**

**Warnings: Character death, SLASH (not until much later), Evil Dumbledore, and Time travel. Some swearing.**

**Parings: SalazarHarry**

**Author's Note: Finally, I'm updating the rewrite of Spirit of Hogwarts Challenge. This is a separate story because there's so much different. But hopefully this is a lot better then the original version. I didn't write the first part of this chapter, but I did edit it majorly. My part begins after the first scene, when Harry faints. Enjoy.  
**

**Chapter 1: The Silver Spirit**

**-- **

Pain…

That's all he felt, agonizing, white hot, pain washing through his body.

Then, like it was never there, it was gone. Not even a ghost of it left.

With a groan, Harry Potter sat up and brought his hand to his face, rubbing his sore eyes. He opened them tentatively, and felt his throat tighten with a silent yell when he saw his silvery, transparent appendage.

Harry took several deep calming breaths before looking back at his hand; nothing had changed in the five seconds that had passed. His hand was still as see-through. Harry quickly reached for his wand to summon a mirror, only to find it missing.

_Damn it, I need a mirror!_

Harry jumped in shock when suddenly a large, full body mirror appeared in front of him.

"Why, what's wrong, dear?" Came a voice from somewhere in the room.

Harry stood and looked frantically around him for the owner of the feminine voice.

"In front of you, dear. I'm the mirror you just summoned."

Harry looked at the mirror with narrowed eyes, "How could I have summoned you? I don't have a wand."

A motherly face appeared on the mirror's glass surface; she offered him a kind and understanding smile. "You are a spirit, love, one of great power. You don't need a wand."

"A…spirit? But that would mean I'm…" Harry couldn't say it. His mind couldn't grasp the idea after surviving for so long.

"Dead, love? I know it may be very hard on you to figure this out, but it is true." Harry looked into the age face in the mirror, he saw not pity as he suspected, but understanding.

"How can I be dead?"

"Do you remember the last thing that happened to you? Remember that and you will have your answer."

Harry look at the glassy surface for a moment before looking down into his folded hands, and he gritted his teeth as the events that led to his death and his death itself came to him.

--

**Harry stood looking at the gargoyle statue in front of him. Dumbledore had called him, and apparently it was very important in the note given to him by a stuttering, first year Hufflepuff. **

**He felt his heart ache as remembered why the Hufflepuff was like that. **

**He had finally defeated Lord Voldemort at the end of his seventh year, but at the cost of many people's lives. The first to go down had been Remus Lupin, at the silver hand of Wormtail. Harry had had to hold back Tonks as she tried to rush towards the dead werewolf she had fallen in love with.**

**However, the grief-stricken woman had managed to wrestle at of his grasp. She had become the second death, soon to be followed by practically everyone in Dumbledore's Army and many Order members. It had been a hard battle, but Harry had found that the Death Eaters were ordered to not attack him, only his family and friends. Voldemort wanted Harry to himself. **

**During this, Dumbledore had not done everything in his power to prevent the deaths of many innocents; he didn't even try to stop a Death Eater from killing the Head of Gryffindor, who had been rumored to be the headmaster's wife.**

**Harry's heart had fallen to pieces when a Death Eater had killed Draco, who had become Harry's lover. The man had not survived the blast of raw magic that had left Harry's wand in his grief. **

**Harry discovered that Voldemort was his biological father at the beginning of his seventh year, but he was never able to bond with him because of Dumbledore and their bitter history with each other. The prophecy convinced both of them there could be no chance for forgiveness anyway.**

**Harry had never trusted anyone after the war was over, not even the man he had thought as his grandfather, because shortly after he killed his father he had found out that the prophecy was a fake. But when the same man had offered a home and job at Hogwarts, Harry had answered yes.**

**There had been nowhere else to go anyway.**

**He had now been working at the great castle for nearly five years. Though he loved his job, Hogwarts just seemed empty with no one he knew there to brighten it up as everyone he had been close to had been killed. Harry was just an empty shell, and his green eyes had lost what little light they had left.**

**The wizarding world was still recovering; slowly building up the brick wall they thought would be unbreakable, which had fallen in mere seconds. But Harry would never be able to rebuild his wall; the pieces were just too small.**

**--**

**Harry had been shaken out of his reverie by some Gryffindors running past him and they were quickly stopped by an invisible force. Harry walked over to them and coughed to get their attention. They gulped at they caught sight of their Head of House.**

"**What have I told you about running in the halls?" He said this in a calm but stern voice he had learnt from the Head before him.**

**The three 4th years stared in shock at him, before one of them, Mr. Young, answered, "We're sorry, sir, but we're late to the Defense Club meeting."**

**Harry frowned at them, and said, "Three points each for running in the hall. Hurry up and get to your meeting; I would hate to have Professor Smith come to me about lateness."**

**The three nodded and scurried of, and Harry smirked. He loved his students.**

**Shaking his head, Harry remembered the reason he was in this wing of the castle. Once again he stood in front of the statue and spoke the password (Chocolate covered Espresso Beans) and made his way up the spiraled staircase.**

**Before he could even knock, he heard the voice of the old headmaster telling him to enter.**

**Later, Harry vaguely noted he should have ignored the small note as he battled against Dumbledore for his life. The old wizard had called him to kill him quickly, and was going to use the alibi that Harry committed suicide in a fit of depression during their meeting. The senile, manipulative, old fool had said that he did not like how much influence Harry had in their current world.**

**They were now fighting high above Hogwarts in their animagus forms; Harry a great, black griffin against Dumbledore, a grey Hungarian Horntail. The two were almost evenly matched, but the older wizard had more experience in battling then Harry did.**

**Eventually, Harry tired out and fell in a downward spiral towards one of the towers in his human form.**

**The last thing Harry remembered was the graying sky and an immense pain through his back before darkness covered his vision. The last thing he heard was a scream from one of his students.**

**He had fallen a hundred feet onto the sharp point of his beloved Gryffindor Tower. **

**--**

Harry drew in a long, shuddering breath.

Albus Dumbledore had killed him.

He new he should have seen it coming by the way the old man looked at him at meals, but never in his wildest dreams had he suspected this. Now he was dead in a place he did not recognize.

"Dear, will you be alright?" was the concerned voice of the mirror.

Harry quickly shook his head, mad at himself for showing so much emotion, "Of course. I just died. I'm perfectly alright."

The mirror gave him a sad smile and kindly ignored the sarcasm. "My name is Monica. What is your name? I'm sure you don't want to be called love or dear."

Harry smiled; it had been a while since anyone had spoken to him, ignorant of his history and fame. "My name is Harry Riddle or Harry Potter, either one works. Or you can call me Gryphon, if you wish. That's what all my friends called me."

"Why did they call you Gryphon, Harry?"

"I'm a griffin animagus."

Surprise showed on her face. "Oh, can I see?" Monica inquired. "Animagus around here aren't very common."

Harry's brows knitted. "I'll change, if I can, for you if you tell me where I am."

"We're in a castle use by thieves at the moment; unfortunately, that's why I'm here. Stole me from my ancestors' house they did."

"Thanks." Harry took a deep breath and concentrated on his inner animal, "Well, here goes nothing."

A few seconds later, Harry opened his eyes to see shock on Monica's face. He tried to speak but remembered he could only produce high pitched bird sounds and clicks. That meant that he had done it. Harry turned to the mirror to look at himself, and a large silvery griffin stood where he once did.

Harry quickly transformed back to the sound of clapping. Monica was beaming. "That was great, Harry! I've only ever seen four others with an animagus forms, but none of theirs were as great as your."

"Um…thanks, I guess. Who are the four you speak of, Monica?" He had a nagging feeling he would regret that question.

"Oh, call me Monnie." She said with a great smile. "One is my granddaughter and the others are her three friends. All of them are very talented."

Harry smiled. "What is her name…Monnie?"

"Oh, her name is Helga, Helga Hufflepuff. Her friends are Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Funny how she makes friends with people that are nothing like her. Godric for instance-", She stopped as she caught sight of the look on Harry's face, "You all right dear?"

"T-the founders of Hogwarts, Monnie?" Harry felt light headed. He was in the founder's time period!

Monica looked confused for a moment before she spoke, "Oh, Harry, they haven't founded anything yet, but they are planning on founding a school. How did you know that?"

And that's when Harry finally fainted.

--(And now the part I've written.)

A pale, blond man stood outside a large castle. His hand was clasped tightly around his wrist behind his back, the other hand holding a long, smooth piece of wood.

This man hummed, occasionally squinting in the distant path. He would sigh, glance at the sky, and then repeat the process.

Minutes later, as he was squinting, he spotted what he had been waiting for. A medium-height, dark figure with a ragged cloak was walking down the path, long strides unhurried. A hood obstructed the facial features from view.

As soon as he was within a meter away from the pale man, the figure asked in a muffled, neutral, voice, "Is everything ready?" As the pale man opened his mouth, the dark man continued, "And put away your wand. We are allies."

The pale man did not put away his wand, but only released his arms to relax at his sides. Leveling a glare at the pale man, the figure spoke. "Unless…of course…you wish to be rid of our alliance…" The softly spoken voice caused shivers to go down the pale man's spine.

"_Non_!" The pale man cried out with a light French accent. "I would not want zat- yes…allies…" He trailed off, before sticking his wand in his pocket.

The hooded figure nodded absently, and turned to look into the darkened forest. "When are they due to arrive?"

"In an 'our, at most," replied the tallest of the pair.

The cloaked man paused, but nodded a second later. "Good." Pulling out a manuscript, he stated, "Follow these instructions. Make no mistakes. I'm expecting only the best from you, Seaxulf."

The pale man, Seaxulf, nodded, and waited until the hooded man was out of sight before opening the letter._ This had better be worth it_, he thought as he read the instructions.

--

"Is this it, Salazar?" A man with red hair asked his companion.

Salazar checked a hand-drawn mask. "Yes, it is. According to this map that blond rat gave us."

"Salazar!"

"What Helga?" Salazar snapped. "He is as good as a rat! He stole your grandmother's mirror!"

"But you can't just call people rats!" Helga protested. "At least he's going to return it to me."

Salazar grumbled, "I know he has something up his sleeve."

Another woman stepped up. "Salazar, why must you always be so pessimistic?"

"Because I'm always right. Do you remember when that wizard with the red goatee told us his potion would cure Godric's nephew of the dragon pox?"

The other three grew silence as they remember the result of potion. Godric gritted his teeth. When all four started walking again, Salazar murmured to Godric, "I'm sorry."

Godric game a wistful smile. "You shouldn't be. You were right about that potion."

"Osric was dead as soon as he got sick," Salazar murmured. "Proving the potion was nothing more then grounded up billywigs and mandrake roots would have had no effect on eventual outcome."

Godric smiled. "Don't dwell on it."

Silence reigned until Salazar caught sight of a blond man bowing to Rowena and Helga further down the path. "Is that the man we're supposed to be meeting?"

"Let's find out." Godric sped up to meet the man, followed closely by a wary Salazar.

"Ah! Lord Gryffindor!" The man bowed. "It iz an 'onor to meet a wizard of such prestige. My name is Seaxulf Malfoi. Am I right to assume you want the mirror?"

Helga nodded, and spoke, "Yes, kind sir. That would be greatly appreciated."

"Follow me," Seaxulf waved them in the dusty halls, and continued to speak. "When I 'ad learnt one of my men took 'Ufflepuff's mirror, I was shocked, to think my men would even dare steal from such a vell known witch…" He went on, but Godric tuned him out, making observations of the castle. It was dreary, old, large, and made out of stone.

Like every other castle he had seen.

_Could stand some cleaning though,_ Godric thought as he watched a spider crawl down the wall.

Beside him, Salazar was asking Seaxulf if he could show them to the mirror instead of giving them a tour. Seaxulf faltered, but regained his smile quickly enough to disgust Salazar. In his mind, he had labeled Seaxulf as a greedy, deceitful man.

What ever Seaxulf would have said was cut off by a woman's yell. The quartet wasted no time in running to the woman's aid ("Finally!" Godric said, "Something interesting!"), and an apprehensive Seaxulf running after them.

--

"Hello? Hello, can you hear me?"

Harry groaned and turned to his side before he snuck a quick peak of his surroundings through his eyes.

He realized he was in the same room he had been in before he had fainted…Odd…how come no one took him to the Hospital Wi- Oh right. Dumbledore killed him, met a mirror named Monica, and discovered he was in the Founder Era. Specifically, before they founded Hogwarts. His first instinct was to sigh, his own way of showing his stress, but stopped when he heard voices talk around him.

"Is he awake?"

"I think so…"

"Who is he?"

"Rowena, how am I supposed to know that?"

"Salazar, you always know things you're not supposed to."

"She's right, Sal."

"Godric, you're supposed to be on my side!"

_Rowena, Salazar, Godric._ Harry repeated the mantra _'I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy'_ in his head for awhile to calm down his nervousness and to explain why he was suddenly a thousand years in the past. After all, if he _did_ become a spirit, wouldn't he have remained in his own time? So what was he? A time traveling spirit? And just what were the chances of meeting the Hogwarts founders right away? They can't have been too-

"I'll try again….Can you hear me?"

Slowly, Harry stood, although he felt no strain on his muscles. _No weight to support,_ Harry thought bitterly. "Yeah, I can hear you."

Instantly, there was a wand pointed to his throat.

The young man who wielded the wand had to be none other then Salazar Slytherin. He had black hair, which shined silver in the light and pretty jade eyes. Harry smirked inwardly at the thought. _Who would have thought Slytherin could be associated with pretty? If this isn't Salazar Slytherin,_ Harry thought, _I'll eat the Sorting Hat. _Considering the thought, he added to the self-promise, _After the Founders make it. And if a spirit could eat real objects.'_

"I'm Harry Riddle. Or Harry Potter. I prefer the former though." Dumbledore had been aggravated for years by Harry's insistence of being called by his true surname. It wasn't much but Harry would take any pleasure he could.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow. "Two last names?" Harry could hear the skepticism oozing from his voice. "Why do you have two last names?"

A man with dirt covered skin, white blonde hair, stepped forward. "Oh, stop it, Salazar." He then turned to Harry. Harry frowned as he felt a small rush of familiarity, but he couldn't place it…

"How did you die?"

Harry shook his head slightly, and responded, "I was murdered."

A petite, kind looking woman with brown hair and warm, golden-brown eyes asked, "And why were you murdered?"

Harry shrugged indifferently. "Some old man wanted me dead."

Salazar eyes took on a calculating glint. "Why did he want you dead?"

"I was- am- too powerful."

Slytherin threw him a suspicious glare. "Why are you so calm about this?"

Another indifferent shrug, for what did he have to care about, now he was dead in this strange place?. "I can't bring myself to care right now," Harry answered.

A man with bright red hair, slightly like the Weasleys, but glinted gold in the correct light put in, "Where are you from?"

Harry stared blankly at the man for a moment. _This must be Godric Gryffindor…_ "Little Hangleton. At least that's where my father's from."

"Well…" The dirty, silver eyed man began. "How did you become a spirit? Don't wizards usually become ghosts?" Then he shot Harry an odd look. "You _were_ a wizard right?"

"Of course."

"So….?"

"So I don't know."

There was a silence where the five other people in the room simply stared at the man who called himself Harry Riddle/Potter.

"What's the year?"

Salazar raised his brow, but asked, "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "Need to know for a theory I have."

"Fine. It's the year 978."

"978…" Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to believe it. Why couldn't he just die like a normal person? Then he could be with his friends and family. But no, he had to become some sort of supernatural spirit and get sent to the past. Of course. Typical Harry Potter/Riddle luck.

"Wait…" The last woman, who must be Rowena Ravenclaw, who had blue eyes the color of robin's eggs, and copper colored hair, widened her eyes like Hermione used to when she just solved something. "Which year are you from?"

"2002."

This reaction was instantaneous. Everyone's, except Slytherin, who's eyes merely widened, jaw dropped and eyes widened. Even Ravenclaw, who had been suspecting an answer like that, just not that far in the future.

Harry, on the other hand, kept his Occlumency shields up. Not that he need it, he felt so hollow inside…he just didn't care anymore. He couldn't feel anything.

The good news that came with that is that no one could hurt him.

Godric let out a slow whistle. "That is quite far away."

_No, really?_

Salazar muttered sarcastically, "No, really?"

_That was odd._

Godric rolled his eyes. "How else am I supposed to respond? It's not every day you meet a time traveling spirit!"

"How old are you?" Rowena asked questionably, ignoring the two bickering men in the background.

Harry glared at her. "Who are you to ask me these questions?"

"Oh!" Rowena flushed, but composed herself quickly. "Forgive my poor manners. I'm Rowena Ravenclaw. And the two gentlemen behind me are Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin."

_I was right. _

"I'm Helga Hufflepuff. You've met my grandmother's mirror already," said the petite woman with brown hair and gold-brown eyes.

The man with silver eyes stepped forward, and said with a slight French accent, "And I'm Seaxulf Malfoi."

Harry felt his eyes widen, but tried –and failed- to hide it quickly by tilting his head downwards.

"What is wrong?" Seaxulf questioned.

Harry shook his head while staring at the ground. "It's nothing, it's just…I know someone who is, more likely then not, related to you."

Silence. Even Gryffindor and Slytherin stopped their bickering.

"Oh really?" Harry heard the excited voice of Salazar Slytherin. Walking to stand right in front of Harry he continued, "Do you know who _my_ heir is? Is he cunning? Ambitious?"

_Now, how should I respond to that?_

"Really, yes, yes, no."

The smile faded slightly, but he pressed on. "Who is he? Why isn't he ambitious?"

_He was able to keep up with my answers? To tell would probably screw up the time line and not to tell would make him bug me…Okay, I'm going to tell. Nothing in the future worth preserving anyway.  
_

"Me, and I just don't care for fame."

Silence once again clawed its way into the room. The people in the room just stared at Harry.

Harry on the other hand, felt amused. All of his life he thought of other people, but now he didn't have anyone left. So the only person he had to think of was himself.

Perfect.

--

**I will be updating regularly every week as I have twenty-five pages already written. After that, I expect there will be large amount of time in-between updates. I strongly encourage reviews, especially critiques because I'm constantly trying to improve my writing skills. So please leave a thoughtful review.  
**


	2. Chapter 2: A Very Long Story

**Necromancy**

**Chapter 2: A Very Long Story**

**Warnings for this chapter: Swearing**

**All other warnings and disclaimers are in the first chapter.**

**Beginning Note: Parseltongue is **"_in English and italics_". **French and any other language is in **"_that language and italics_" **if you get confused, then suffer in your befuddlement (I love that word) because I can't think of an easier way to explain that.**

--

Harry began humming as he allowed the information to sink it. Harry knew he was in shock and that he was most definitely not right in the head when he told the founders about himself. If he had been this forthcoming with information while he was alive, he'd have died long before the war ended.

_But what was left to lose now? I'm dead._

Rowena Ravenclaw managed to regain most of her composure the fastest and said, "Well…this is quite a surprise. Why don't you tell us what happened to you exactly?

Harry fixed her with a chilling glare. "Are you sure you wish to know?"

"Yes!" Yelled Slytherin. "What the hell happened to my heir?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why should I tell you about that?"

Helga piped up, "Who else could you tell?"

_No one,_ Harry thought, but said nothing. He knew there was no one else he could turn to, just as well as Hufflepuff knew that. Harry sighed, and began to tell the founders his past.

After all, what was left to lose now?

"I-" Harry began, but Slytherin interrupted him.

"_Not here! We don't know who else is listening here!_" It took a minute for Harry to realize that Slytherin had spoken in Parseltongue. A test to see if Harry was indeed related to him.

"Alright." Harry nodded, "We'll wait until we're in a more secure place until we talk."

"_Good._ Monsieur Malfoi, if you would mind giving us time to talk?" Slytherin had a steely glint in his eyes, making the question a command to all of the listeners' ears.

Malfoi hesitated, but bid farewell to them all. "_Au revoir,_" and he stepped out the door. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw cast various spells which Harry assumed to be for secrecy; most he didn't recognize and all of them were cast directly from the hand. Harry made a note to ask about that later.

"Now, do tell us your story," Slytherin said.

Harry attempted to smile charmingly at all of them, but judging at Slytherin's narrowed eyes, he failed. "Oh, but I was hoping to chat for a little bit first. There's so much we can discuss, my dear great, great, great, great, great, great, grandfather. Who knows how many questions I've got."

Salazar tensed his jaw in frustration. "I will answer nothing as long as I don't know who you are. Now tell us or else." Harry felt skepticism rise in his body; what could he do to a ghost? _Pick your battles, Riddle,_ he told himself, and opened his mouth to speak.

"All right. You want to know what happened?

My father was Tom Marvolo Riddle. His father- a muggle- abandoned him once he found out that his mother- your heir- was a witch. She found her way to a muggle orphanage, gave birth to my father there and died soon afterwards.

My father grew up in the muggle orphanage…when he became eleven, he was sent a letter from a school, called Hogwarts, the school that you four founded.

What? No, Ravenclaw, I have no idea why you four named the school that. May I continue now?

Thank you.

And so, my dear father goes through school...and meets a one hundred year old bastard who recognizes him as a powerful wizard and tries his hardest to annihilate him without causing suspicion or losing his 'good' image.

Hm? Oh. The old man, Albus Dumbledore, was seen as a figure of the Light, even though it's the complete opposite and I'm sure that he tricked the Sorting…Oh never mind. All you need to know about Dumbledore is that he pretends to be good, and he's really good at pretending.

Dumbledore wasn't able to directly hurt Tom, but he was able to complete fuck with Tom's life-

In my time, fuck can mean multiple things. I used it as 'completely mess up or ruin'. Anyway... he was able to completely ruin my father's life. He managed to spread rumors that my father was an awful person and made him shunned by his classmates and the old man even drunk some Polyjuice Potion and murdered his uncle and grandfather and framed it on Tom. Luckily, wizards don't care for muggles, or some hermit – yes, Salazar, his uncle was a hermit- or some hermit wizard who had just gotten out of Azkaban.

Oh, for the love of- the Polyjuice Potion makes it possible for a person to look exactly like someone else for an hour but it hurts like hell when you drink it and Azkaban is the wizarding prison. Not a pleasant place.

Urgh, may I _please_ go on? You wanted to hear my story not squabble about how unfair it is.

Thank you. Again.

And so, Tom finds the Chamber of Secrets. Oh, I should explain what that is, shouldn't I? Well, after you four founded the school, you and Gryffindor got into an argument about whether or not muggleborns should be allowed into the school. You left the school, but rumor had it you constructed a secret chamber that only the heir of Slytherin could find and it contained a beast only the heir of Slytherin could control.

Tom found the Chamber, opened it, befriended the monster, and he became so overcome with bitterness and loneliness that he used the monster to attack the other students, eventually killing one. Then he blamed it on someone else and got off scot-free and with a nice award.

The monster was a basilisk, Ravenclaw. I'll explain what happened to it later.

Hey! Don't kill Slytherin, Gryffindor! Just because he put a dangerous creature in the school in the future, doesn't mean he'll do it again! Why do you think I'm telling you all of this?

Good, so can we all agree to not kill Slytherin?

Excellent. Now, after Tom graduated from school he sank into the Dark Arts and couldn't handle it. But he had better control of it when he met Lorelei, a witch from Germany. I don't know much about her, except she looked just like me, but more feminine. They fell in love, and eventually got me. They were both really happy.

But happiness is fleeting. Dumbledore, who had gained the position of the leader of the Light due to all of his manipulations, accused them of some crimes like murder, torture and such.

Oh, Ravenclaw, please stop looking at me like that. I hate pity.

My parents fought against him, but my mother was killed. So my father ran with me in his arms and cast a spell he made to send me through time to a place I'd be safe.

He also put a protection spell on me, one he invented himself. It could block anything. Remember this, it'll be very important.

Don't ask me how he did it, Ravenclaw. I never figured that out.

Anyway, I get sent forward through time, where this couple James and Lily Potter found me and adopt me. My father was driven mad at the lost of his wife and son and became a mass murderer with followers. He called himself Lord Voldemort – a nickname he made in his darker moments in school- and his followers were called Death Eaters.

Something you need to know- my adoptive parents were extremely kind. And because of their righteous ways and nosiness, Dumbledore saw the need to eliminate them. Well, at least that's what I think. He might have just suspected that I was really Tom's son and wanted Tom to kill me himself then rub it in his face, but I'll never know now.

He created this fake prophecy, and made sure that it reached Tom's ears. So then Tom thought that I was to be the boy who would kill him and Tom had sworn that he would remain alive to see his son because he was sure he sent his son to the future. On October 31, 1981, he arrived at the Potter's house and killed James and Lily.

Then my father casts the killing curse on me, but because of the protection spell he put on me it backfires and he turns into a type of spirit.

To make a very long story short, I got famous for something I can't remember, and for my supposed parents getting murdered.

So, Dumbledore sends me to Lily's sister, Petunia Dursley, and her husband, Vernon Dursley. And I suffer ten long years at the hands of Lily's family, who hate magic.

I'll just skip over those years to spare you.

Be quiet Slytherin……Fine. Let me rephrase that. I'm not going to tell you what happened during the years I was at the Dursley's because I don't want to and it's relatively unimportant to my story.

All you need to know is that I was miserable there, and my relatives were horrible.

When I turned eleven, I got a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, it's the exact same school you four will found.

Thus I enter Year 1. There I wore the Sorting Hat and got sorted into the Gryffindor House….oh. Hm, I probably should explain that. Alright, you four create a four houses because each of you value different traits in your students. And since none of you are immortal, you make a Sorting Hat that will sort the students for you one you all die.

Although, I think the Sorting Hat should sort people on where they truly belong and not just where they would like to be because otherwise it defeats the purpose.

Sorry…so after a long year, I end up nearly dying at the hands of my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head. Nothing too exciting.

No, I don't want to describe what happened in detail. So don't bug me about it. I'll tell you what I wish to tell you.

To bug someone means to annoy them persistently, Godric. It's a modern term.

In second year, the Chamber of Secrets is reopened. Now, I am told by Dumbledore that I am not the Heir of Slytherin and other things like that, but now I shouldn't believe anything he says. Apparently, he did think I opened the Chamber, but since I was the Boy–Who-Lived, who couldn't get rid of me without causing a ruckus. So-

...Ruckus means commotion.

So eventually, he hoped I would be idiotic enough to expose myself as guilty.

I found out later my father had left a diary where he preserved all of his memories in at the age of sixteen so he could reopen the Chamber and seek revenge against Dumbledore.

I ended up killing the Basilisk in the Chamber and destroying the diary.

Just an ordinary year for me.

In third year, I found my godfather, Sirius Black, who was wrongly convicted of murder and betrayal and helped him escape from Dementers.

Dementers were in control of the Ministry of that time, unfortunately.

Er...dementers are tall, robed creatures that make you feel you will never be happy again. You really don't have them here? Unbelievable...

I found out about my godfather, and how Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents and how Remus Lupin wrongly thought it was Sirius who betrayed them.

Of course, no one cares about the fact I didn't even know any of them ever existed before then.

…Yes, I'm bitter. And I firmly believe I have every right to be.

My godfather escapes, and so does Peter, but I was satisfied with that. Actually no, I wasn't, but everyone told me I should be, so I kept my mouth shut.

In my fourth year, we have the Triwizard Tournament, which I have to participate in because a Death Eater in disguise put me in the Goblet of Fire.

…the Goblet of Fire chooses which students from the three schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang participate in the Tournament.

And after a long, long, long year I get to touch the trophy which transports me and Cedric –the Hogwarts champion- to a graveyard where he dies and I get to see my unknowing father regain his body.

Such a pleasant reunion, no?

Anyways, I get away, tell everyone that Voldemort is back, and everyone believes I'm a nutcase.

Aren't people so loyal?

We went over this already…I am a very bitter person. Extremely bitter.

For fifth year, I was extremely miserable and thanks to my own stupidity, my godfather is murdered by his cousin.

Dumbledore showed me a fake prophecy that told me I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort.

In sixth….well, let's just say everything went completely down hill. Even more so then in fifth.

In sixth year, I spent my entire time at Hogwarts avoiding people who wanted to either worship me, or kill me. I remember this one incident, where a classmate whose name I don't even know, tried to hurt me because her family had been killed by Voldemort. One of the professors stopped her though.

Dumbledore was making me train in Light Magic only, but Remus gave me a book on the Dark Arts because he thought that I would need to know what I'm fighting against.

He also noted how odd Dumbledore making sure I was isolated from Dark Magic. I trained a lot, during which, a lot of people died by my father's hand.

Seventh year was interesting, to say the least. At the very beginning of seventh year, I got a letter.

It wasn't an ordinary letter though. It was from Voldemort from about forty years ago. What happened it that he made a letter, to his son, so his son would know what his heritage was and who wronged his family if he died.

At the time, he had no idea his son was also his mortal enemy.

So, naturally, I had no idea what to do.

So I did nothing.

I couldn't think of anything to do. I couldn't tell Dumbledore because if what was said in the letter was true, then I couldn't trust him. I couldn't tell my friends because I had no idea how they would react to it, and they might go and tell Dumbledore.

So I had no one.

I considered responding…but what could I have said? 'Dear Tom, I'm sorry to tell you have sent your letter to the wrong person. I'm Harry Potter, certainly not your son', or 'Voldemort, you're a lying bastard, don't ever send a letter to me again, From your mortal enemy, Harry Potter'.

I chose none of them, and did nothing.

Eh? … Hufflepuff, at the time, I wasn't sure that Voldemort was telling the truth. For all I knew, he could have been trying to mislead me to kill me. And I was proud of my adoptive parents, and didn't want to accept that they weren't my real parents.

At the end, I killed my father. By that time, I knew that he was my father, and everything he said in the letter was true.

I...don't really feel like getting into all of that.

Thus the war ended. But I lost all of my friends either by death or our friendship just fell apart after so many deaths, so I accepted a job offering by Dumbledore.

I liked teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I stayed there for…five years I think, before Dumbledore called me to his office.

...I stayed there because I had no where else to go. Dumbledore...ruined my life and so many others...but I couldn't bring up the hate I needed to kill him...I've never been good at that.

Where was I...right, he called me to his office, he attacked me, and threw me out of the window.

This hole I have in my chest…I landed on the point of Gryffindor Tower.

And…here I am.

--

**End Note: I didn't intend for this chapter to be so long, but I messed up on the spacing for what I've written, and I want to keep the length of each chapter (about 7 pages or so) pretty consistent. Next update will be next weekend. And please, tell me if you think I'm keeping Harry's character believable. He's the one I'm most worried about. Feel free to give CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM on voice, plot, audience, character, POV, grammar and spelling or anything else you think I need to improve on. Flames will be ignored.**


	3. Chapter 3: The New School

**EDIT: Okay, so my information was partially wrong. England was still ruled by Anglo-Saxons in the setting of this fic (978 A. D.), so I changed the part with the ruins of an Anglo-Saxon fortress to an old Roman fortress from before the Romans were driven out. **

**Thanks to Droaerion for the correct.**

**BTW, I welcome corrections. If you still see a screw-up somewhere, feel free to point it out. I appreciate bluntness when it comes to those things too.**

**Beginning A/N: Same warnings apply, as well as disclaimers and that stuff. Just a note, the pairing is SalazarHarry. But I can't write physical romance well (Harry might not even get his life back anyway; it's being debated), so this story will focus on their relationship with their personalities and interactions. **

**Thanks to all who reviews and left a thought about my fic. I appreciate the imput.**

**Chapter 3: The New School**

--

The silence resounding in the room was enough to make Harry wish that someone would say something. But not enough for him to break the silence.

"Oh, you poor dear…"

Harry spun around to face Monica, having forgotten she was still there. "Ah! Oh…you surprised me, Monnie."

"Oh I'm sorry, Harry. But that story of your was so sad…I can hardly believe you're still sane after all of that."

Slowly, Harry nodded. "I can't believe it either."

There was silence. No one knew what to say.

"So…." Harry began, but didn't continue.

Gyrffindor immediately grinned and continued for him. "So let's get out of this dusty old room! Besides, we need to discuss the sell."

"Wait," Harry said. "I still have some questions that need to be answered. First, why aren't any of you using wands?"

"Wands?" Ravenclaw questioned.

"Yes, wands. To concentrate your magic and cast spells. All of you have used your hands to cast spells."

"Well, yes, of course we use our hands. Only witches and wizards who are only beginning to use their magic need wands to control their magic. Everyone abandons such things after they finish their education though," Ravenclaw stated.

Harry frowned and glanced at Monica. "Then why...?"

Monica answered, "I didn't think you were from the future, Harry. I just thought maybe you were a young wizard, still reliant on your wand. You do look young."

"Ah," Harry said. An entire population of wizards able to cast wandless magic, and it was expected of them! _Are they stronger then the wizards from my time?_ Harry thought with mild panic. With powerful magic and rituals, some wizards could harm him, even if he was spirit. _This is not good..._

Flicking his wrist experimentally, Harry conjured a fountain in the middle of the room. The other four jumped back out of surprised, and Slytherin scowled at Harry, who smiled innocently. "Just checking..." He was pleased to see Slytherin's scowl deepen, and he hummed cheerfully.

"What's the current state of the wizarding world?" Harry ask suddenly. If he recalled some of the things Hermione told him, the founders had partly made Hogwarts to be a haven for wizards and witches who needed to escape muggle witch burnings. Or was it later in history...?

Slytherin cleared his throat. "Ever since Eadweard II took the throne-"

"Who?"

Slytherin blinked. Ravenclaw laughed and said, "Of course he wouldn't know. " The humor vanished from her face. "Eadweard II succeeded his father, Edgar of England after he died. He's a good king, but far to religious for his own good, as well as ours. The muggles are currently in war, so most magical communities are careful to hide themselves from curious eyes. Muggle born wizards aren't trained at all. They either get caught using magic and killed, or they hide it their entire lives." **(1)**

Harry nodded. "I see."

"Now..." Harry began slowly. "What's going to happen?"

Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw hesitated, but Hufflepuff spoke up immediately. "You'll stay with us, of course." With her eyes shining with pure honesty, Hufflepuff continued, "We can't let you go into this world all alone, especially after you've been so frank about your past."

The other three acquiesced, and the six of them, including Monica, left the room.

--

"Well?" Salazar asked when Harry was talking to Helga as they walked out of the old castle. Seaxulf had not been pleased they weren't going to buy the castle but wished them well in any case. Helga had immediately started informing him of wizarding life in Britain. Harry seemed to be genuinely listening to what she was saying and added explanations of his time's inventions. Helga was discussing whether or not wands would help wizards or hinder them. With the right spell, Helga had sent Monica back to the mansion.

"I like him." Godric said simply. He added no further explanation to his opinion, but Salazar was not surprised. Godric was emotional by nature, and followed his gut more than his head.

"He's…odd." Rowena finally said. "But it's understandable considering all he's been through." Silence fell over them like a blanket until Rowena strode forward to listen to Harry describe how a toilet worked.

"Should they be discussing such a topic?" Godric asked idly as Harry gleefully told the two woman what a toilet was for, despite the slight reddening of their cheeks.

"They could always walk away."

"What do you think of him?" Godric asked Salazar.

"Which part?"

"His story."

"...it's plausible."

"He seems like a good person."

"Seems like. We don't know if he _is_. He could be some ordinary ghost for all we know."

"No," Godric mused, "we do know he's not an ordinary ghost. He looks a lot like you, although that could be a coincidence. It probably is. It's the way he carries himself though. It reminds me of you." Before Salazar could absorb what was said and comment, Godric continued. "And the spells and potions he talked about, especially that Polyjuice one- if he told us how to brew it, it would at least prove he's not ordinary. And that sorting hat would be a very good idea for our school."

"True," Salazar agreed, "and his story was very well thought out. It would have been difficult to make up so many details." _But he was too forthcoming with his story, _he thought, _my heir should be more intelligent then to reveal his life story to strangers._

"How am I going to get to the Hufflepuff Manor?" Godric and Salazar jumped, startled by Harry's presence next to them. In the daylight, Harry was barely visible, but he kept talking. "I don't think ghosts can Apparate, and even if I can, I don't know where the Manor is."

"Will you try, though? It would be interesting to see how a spirit's powers differ from a ghost's." Rowena stated.

Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration, and with a soft, 'sh' noise, he disappeared. Helga stared at the area he'd been in confusion. "Did he Disapparate?"

"That I did, milady."

Helga shrieked, and a smiling Harry floated slightly off the ground behind her. "Sorry about that, but I couldn't resist. So, where is Hufflepuff Manor anyway?"

The next few months passed by slowly for Harry.

After Harry suggested the idea that the four should build their own castle to fortify its defenses and put a part of themselves in their school, the question as to where they should construct the castle was brought up. Harry was asked, but remained silent where Hogwarts had been built with the statement, "I didn't help you in my time, so you shouldn't need too much help in this time". Helga wanted the castle to be in a large area. Godric (the founders had insisted to be called by their first names) wanted the area to near a forest filled with a lot of magical creatures so they can educate their students on magical beasts. Rowena agreed with Godric but she also wanted the library to be large so each student can get whatever information they wish for.

Salazar wanted the castle to be close to an all magical community. The other three agreed.

After a few weeks, the founders decide to locate the castle by a lake, a little ways away from a quaint little town called Hogsmeade. There were actually the remains of an old, Roman fortress in that area, but it was unused and just wasted space. The Romans had occupied it for a short amount of time before abandoning England to be ruled under the heathen Anglo-Saxons. The four founders were all wealthy enough to contribute to buying the land there; Harry was horrible at finances, so he just nodded when Helga tried to explain to him all the details.

And then the actual construction started.

First, the founders need raw materials. They took apart the remains of the ruins, and used them for starting off. The other stones were given to Helga by her family, who wanted to help her in any way they could. Salazar contracted wizard laborers and brought in house elves to work with their magic (Harry could hear Hermione's rant about it in his head). Rowena was in charge of managing the finances and Godric set out to publicize their school and to find possible teachers and students, as well as research techniques for teaching. Harry was set with the task of commanding laborers to do different work and simply watch over them.

Prior to the final contracts, Harry had been asked by Salazar to train the laborers. Harry was obviously surprised, and even more so when Salazar explained that instead of gold, the laborers were getting training as payment for their work.

As a result, Harry spent most of his time with Salazar, who became his companion for most days, as well as his partner in magical training. They'd argue about magical techniques in the future and compare them to the present, or banter back and forth. Harry's relationship with the other founders were going quite well too. Helga was one of the nicest people Harry had met, and they developed a peaceful, and casual friendship. One day Harry surprised himself by discussing cooking with Helga, and was even more shocked when Helga gave him some recipes to try (he was still trying to figure out how to cook as a spirit).

Rowena was usually working with the paperwork but loved to talk to Harry about future research and philosophies. She explained to him why some wizards traits were a little odd in comparison to muggles, such as Godric's golden eyes. Apparently the magic within a person can alter the appearance of a wizard unconsciously, and when that happens, the trait is continued down the bloodline. Everyone in the Gryffindor had golden eyes. Godric was gone for most of the construction, so he didn't see much of him.

After three years, the castle was finally finished.

"Doesn't it feel great to have accomplished such a difficult task?" Godric asked, smiling gleefully as he saw Hogwarts in all of its glory.

Salazar snorted inelegantly. "What are you talking about Gryffindor? You were off on the road while we were constructing this."

"But," Godric added, "I am the one who found us students and teachers. You can't have a good school without students, teachers, and contacts!"

This time Salazar ignored him. Rowena asked, "Contacts?"

"Of course!" Godric exclaimed. "Our school is going to be the first, true school for magical children. We will need advertising."

Salazar stared at Godric in mute horror. "You...spoke with the prestigious magical families?"

"No, actually." Godric smiled. "Those weren't the contacts I had in mind. I contacted the wizards who protect magical beasts and several magical creatures like centaurs." At everyone's blank expression, he elaborated. "Ah, you don't understand? There is a limited amount any good wizard or witch can do. I thought, that if we made deals with magical creatures, we could have their aid if we're ever under attack."

"How'd it go?" Harry asked, floating in a relaxed sitting position.

"Great! I didn't finalize anything because we're all in this together, but they were really interested! We can meet with them again whenever it is convenient.

"And," Godric continued dramatically, "I've been thinking."

"Surprising."

"Be quiet, Salazar."

Helga, who had just walked over during Godric's enthused conversation, interrupted. "What were you thinking about Godric?"

Godric beamed at Helga, and said, "I thought about what Harry said about the sorting hat and different houses. I think I've found a way to do that.

"See," he began, pulling his hat from his head, a black cap which hardly resembled the Sorting Hat. "It won't be that hard. If we use an animation charm and we add a voice to the hat, we'd be able to get the hat to sort!" With a flourish of his hand, and with some murmured words, Godric produced a beam of lavender light shot out to the hat.

And the hat exploded into bright yellow flames.

Godric coughed, the the blue smoke filling his lungs. Helga and Rowena used their magic to blow the smoke away from Godric, and Salazar put out the fire ball that used to be a hat. Harry watched on in amusement.

"Alright," Godric wheezed once he had recovered from shock. "That didn't work. But what went wrong?" He yanked out a manuscript from the folds of his robes, and frowned at the script. "Hmm...maybe if I..." Godric walked off, muttering to himself.

"Godric, stop!" Rowena screeched, making Godric halt in his tracks. "What was _that_?!"

"Er...just a little spell I came up with. It was supposed to be an animation charm but it just created a yellow flame."

"Created a yellow flame?" Salazar wondered aloud, "I didn't see the flames coming from his hand. I only saw the hat explode."

Godric nodded. "Perhaps I made a miscalculation and created an exploding hex instead. I'll review my notes tonight."

Rowena gritted her teeth. "You...oh, you and your experiments! You're going to kill yourself with them one day!"

"Don't say something like that!" Helga hissed. "It might actually happen."

"That's just a superstition," Rowena stated tartly. "And nonetheless, there's a chance of it happening anyway. Godric is always performing these experiments and he never once stop to take precautions. It could very well get out of hand and kill him!"

Helga made to chase after Rowena as the woman stalked off, but Salazar stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "No, it's best to just let her calm down on her own. Come. We need to set up the classrooms and inform our possible students and professors Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is going to begin this year."

Helga fidgeted, but nodded. "Are we really going to be calling our school that?"

"Hogwarts?"

"Yes, that. It is such a... revolting name." She sent Harry an apologetic look, but he shrugged it off.

"I didn't name the castle that. You guys did in another time line. I don't care what you call it." Hogwarts was a name of familiarity with both bad and good memories. Harry could only imagine what his presence and influence was doing to the future; does he exist? Does any of his ancestors exist? Does Voldemort? How many people have Harry wiped from existence with his actions? How many people exist because he has interfered? What will he do to affect the future even more?

"In that case," Godric's enthused words drowned out Harry's thoughts, "we should name it something with more class! Something that just screams, 'This is the best magical school in the world!' Something we can proudly declare to be the founders of when we send the enrollment letters! Something like-"

"Godric," Salazar cut him off, his chilly voice contrasting greatly with Godric enthused monologue. "Stop acting like a fool. It's not like this castle is a sentient being."

Godric stared in disbelief at Salazar. "But we created it! It's like our baby, Salazar!"

Salazar opened his mouth for a sharp retort, but shut it when he heard Harry and Helga break out in chuckles. Shaking his head, he walked off in the direction of the castle. _There is no hope for these people_, he thought as he heard Godric joining the two in their laughter.

--

**1) This information is correct. My source for English history is wikipedia (which I know isn't always correct, but if you see something wrong, feel free to point it out). Just search for Edgar of England and you'll find information on them. **

**Ending A/N: Please tell me what you liked and if there are any improvements I can make to the audience, POV, voice, character (what the character does and why they do it), or plot (although I'm still getting to that) but to make it clear, the first plot will be introduced next chapter. The pace will pick up, I just have to set everything up as well as make sure there's visible differences in modern English life and old English life because there is! **

**I doubt there'll be more than fifteen total chapters for this fic about this length if anyone is curious.**

**Feel free to point out any error or mistake with grammar or spelling. I love critiques. They make me a better writer and that makes this story better for the readers.**

**Any suggestions for Hogwarts new name, should I make up one or should I just leave it as is?**


	4. Chapter 4: Time Flies, When You're Dead

**A/N: Hi! I'm RandomTopic, formerly Soelle. I just changed my name cause I like RandomTopic better.  
So, I haven't updated in... four months is it... Anyway. I needed time to clear my head and get some new ideas. This chapter pretty much just shoves the plot forward which I desperately needed, as well as adds in some very nice interaction.**

**Thanks for the lovely reviews, everyone. 3 3 3  
**

**French:**

**Bonjour- good day**

**mon ami- my friend (masculine)**

**ça va - I'm fine (or, if it's a question, can mean "How are you?" informally) **

**Note: I am trying to get down a French accent for Seaxulf, but I am horrible with accents, so if anyone wants to help with that, I will welcome any advice you can give.**

---

"_You've failed."_

_Seaxulf jumped at the muffled voice. "Ah- _B-bonjour, mon ami_. I was not expecting you."_

"_Be quiet," the voice commanded from the shadows. "You've failed me. You told me three years ago you would fix your mistake. But the school has been built. Tell me, why should I let you live?"_

_Seaxulf gulped. The heat from the fire place seemed far too hot. He was certain it hadn't been so a minute ago. "Because I 'ave not failed," Seaxulf said or he thought that's what he said. The room was getting so hot, he couldn't think clearly._

"_Explain."_

"_I might not 'ave been able to get ze map ze four's school, but Lady Ravenclaw enjoys my company. She said she will take me on a tour someday soon."_

"_How will that help me?"_

_Me, he says, Seaxulf thought. He openly admits to not care about my wishes._

_Ignoring his thoughts, as survival instincts kicked in, Seaxulf continued, "I can gain 'er trust. Then I could easily complete ze last part of ze plan and ve'll both be victorious."_

_There was a long silence. Seaxulf contemplated running for his life, but then the cloaked figure spoke. "You are very good at making yourself useful. Very well. Convince Ravenclaw and the other founders you are trustworthy. Then...when everything is in place... you can finish the job."_

_The hooded head was in his face. A glinting dagger was pressed against Seaxulf's throat. "Or I will.."_

Seaxulf woke up.

A redheaded man, a fellow thief, lifted his head up from examining a trinket a curious expression on his face. Seaxulf gave a short shake of the head, and murmured, "_Ça va, ça va._" The other man shrugged and began turning the sides of his object around.

Seaxulf got up from the chair he had fallen asleep in and left to send a letter.

It was about time he responded to Rowena's last letter...

--

"Master Potter, I request a moment of your time."

Harry turned when he heard his name at the speaker. Salazar stood there. Harry gave him a brief nod and turned to the students he was supervising. "Class, be sure to practice the wand movements Master Bligh showed you." Floating over to Salazar he said, "Sure, let's go."

At Salazar's confusion, Harry elaborated, "'Sure' means yes."

Giving a brief nod of understanding, Salazar waved his hand for Harry to follow. When they reached Salazar's dungeons, Salazar yanked a book (Harry felt slight envy whenever Salazar made an ordinary act elegant; it was inhuman) from the bookshelf and opened it. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. "Read this page."

Skimming, Harry felt his eyebrows raise. "This is a page on necromancy."

Salazar nodded.

"What does this have to do with me?"

Salazar blinked and then stared at Harry's silvery form. "Surely you are joking..."

"No, I'm not." Harry answered shortly. "What does the revival of the dead have to..._oh_." Realization hit Harry like a ton of bricks to the head. "Oh. Why?"

"_Why_?"

"Yes, why? I don't want to be alive again. I've been a ghost for years, and I'm quite content."

"But," Salazar's countenance had disbelief written all over it. "You're nothing more then a spirit... why would you want to remain so?"

"Why would I want to live, if there is nothing I can obtain from living?" Harry retorted.

"Why are you speaking nonsense?" Salazar's eyes glittered with frustrated, cold anger. "I am giving you another chance at life! There are people who would sell their souls for such an opportunity!"

"Then do not mistake me for one of them," Harry replied coldly. Without a word, he vanished through the wall.

--

Harry avoided Salazar for an entire week before both silently agreed to forget about it.

One question was one Harry's mind though, and he couldn't help but ask it. When he found Salazar in the dungeons, he questioned, hesitantly, "You're a necromancer?"

Salazar started. He glanced at Harry, and stated stiffly, "Yes. I am."

"Is that why you practice the Dark Arts?"

Salazar blinked. "Yes, it is." He said stiffly. "I've been given a gift; why should I not use it?"

"I don't see why not," Harry said quietly, mulling over this new fact in his head. Salazar admitted to practicing the Dark Arts, but necromancers have more control over that dark magic then most... but wasn't Salazar aware of the risks involved? Especially when what Harry knew of the founders' history from his time...

"Good. Now then, there's something else I wish to discuss with you," Salazar said.

"And...?" Salazar's eyebrow twitched at Harry's impatience. Harry couldn't resist throwing him an amusing smirk.

"Rowena received a letter from her friend, a few days ago concerning a terrorist witch who's been attacking magical communities."

Harry's silvery face stared blankly. "And...?"

Salazar sighed. "Due to our fame and success in creating a safe place for young wizards and witches to attend, we, as in Godric, Helga, Rowena and myself, have been asked to kill this witch."

Harry continued to appear confused, so Salazar sighed and said, "Would you be consider lending a hand?"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?"

Salazar sighed. "I really don't know. What _could _you do?"

"I'd suggest to give her a cold," Harry mused, "But your personality is far colder than how I could make her feel, so I can't even do that."

Salazar sighed again, and murmured, "There is no hope for you."

"Aw, you wound me Salazar," Harry cried dramatically. Placing his hands over his chest and allowed himself to drift in midair, in a relaxed, rested position.

Glasses tinkled against each other as Salazar set back to work. Low murmurs joined in the sound, as well as shuffling parchment. The world was foggy and blurred as Harry's silvery eyelashes blocked his sight, but his eyes snapped opened when a spot of bright, neon orange entered his sight.

Wisps came from the side of the room where Salazar was. Curiosity still burned as strongly as when Harry heard the name Nicholas Flamel from Hagrid, and he darted to Salazar's shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

Harry peered over Salazar's shoulder, looking into the glowing orange batch of... whatever it was.

"Brewing a potion."

"Which potion?"

"I'm not certain yet. This is an experimental potion _which requires absolute concentration!_"

"Relax, it's not like I'm going to make it explode."

Salazar sighed and added a few, small newt eyeballs.

"How long are you planning on staying here?"

The question was so abrupt, Harry didn't realize it was directed towards him until he noticed Salazar stare at him expectantly.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But I have no where to go. Hogwarts is my home. Do you want me to go?"

"We told you, the school's name is..." Salazar automatically corrected him, before the question sunk in. "Do I want you to go? Why do you ask that?"

"You asked if I was going to stay. It was a hint."

"It doesn't have to be. It could have been an innocent question asked of curiosity." Harry snorted, but Salazar tactfully ignored him. "Regardless... I imagine these halls would be rather empty without your presence."

Harry smiled.

---

It was a sea of color; blues, reds, yellows, purples, even colors such as neon green were present in the crowd of people. None could see Harry, even if they gazed right at him in the sky, the sunlight disguising his transparent form from above.

Harry released a sigh, now used to lack of feeling of his ghostly form. It was peculiar, even uncomfortable, to feel nothing, but knew in his mind how objects should feel.

Months ago, Salazar asked Harry to recount the moments of when he had just woken up dead. Salazar noted how strange it was for Harry to have felt pain when he was dead, and therefore could not feel; ghosts were limited to hearing and sight as their senses. Touch, taste and smell were lost to ghosts. Harry still had his magic, which no ghost ever retained, but it wouldn't have let him feel pain from his death. Concerned, Salazar mentioned to the other founders, and Rowena theorized Harry had still been clinging to life, and the pain was an echo from his body.

Harry's eyes once again followed the crowd. A small village had been constructed in the few, short years after the school began. Once the word was out of a safe, pure wizarding town, magical people poured in. All feared the fate of the stake, the death sentence muggle unjustly handed out like tickets to a popular play.

Harry entertained himself by watching a young wizard slowly trek to an open store. A pretty witch bumped into the wizard, and both fell to the snow covered ground. The girl stuttered, cheeks pink in embarrassment, but the boy laughed it off and the two walked into a store together.

_This is boring._

Harry's thoughts shifted to what else he could do. The founders were teaching classes, and as much fun as it would be to interrupt Salazar's class with some inanity for a reason, Harry didn't know if Salazar actually looked up curses for apparitions. Harry wasn't certain, but he didn't want to take the chance.

None of the other professors wanted to stop and talk to a dead person... Helga, maybe. But she was too sweet to bother. That was the problem with nice people, Harry thought. They're so nice, but it's so boring because you feel guilty for bothering them.

Harry sighed, and continued watching the passer-by. Or at least, he would have continued doing so, if he had not caught the feel of disgust.

Disgust was a feeling Harry was accustomed to. He felt it, saw it, heard it, breathed it everyday when he lived with the Dursley's. They wore it as a badge, proof Harry was insignificant and inferior. So he had learned to recognize the signs and avoided the Dursleys whenever they felt too much of it.

It had been a useful thing to recognize. Death Eaters felt disgust when they were around muggle borns, so that made them easy to pick out in a crowd for Harry, even if his friends were baffled.

The signs were coming from a tall woman. Her blond hair was in a bun, her face tight and her petite nose was scrunched up, distaste turning her features into something ugly. Her strong body (too strong in the time where women should be small, dainty and fragile) edged away from passing wizards and witches, and turned a cold shoulder to vendors wishing to sell their products, or to gain something far more valuable.

Disgust was written on her skin.

But why? It was a magical village for magical people; it was a _sanctuary_. Why would she feel disgust?

Perhaps... one of her children or siblings was a wizard, and she resented to have come there. Yes, that had to be it.

_But just in case..._ Harry trailed her from above, hoping the sunlight and the height would keep him hidden. He found he had no need to worry; few people looked up, and if they did, it was to the castle or a passing owl. The woman simply walked around the village. She would browse shops and occasionally chat with a vendor, asking about the village in general and typically being a new, curious witch who wanted to know more.

Harry was not fooled. The disgust was still in her form and in her every movement.

Harry had just decided to report this to Salazar, when a large crowd hid the woman from view, and Harry lost her.

Harry swooped down ("Oh my! An elderly lady exclaimed, before a younger man hurriedly moved them forward) and looked around frantically. He had lost her! How could he have lost her? He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, for pete's sake!

A murmur passed through him, jolting his mind to his fourth year, the buzz that had grown in the Great Hall when Dumbledore called out his name. But the murmur had a concerned note to it. Harry was still at the village, and a girl in front of him was asking "Are you alright, sir? Do you need help? Are you sad you're a ghost, sir? There are ghosts up at the castle. You can go there. They'll help you."

"Yes," Harry croaked. "I'll go there. Thank you." The girl smiled, and it was genuine. It startled Harry. He didn't know why.

When he arrived back at the castle, he knew why. No one had smiled at him like that since Draco had died.

Harry wished that he could have died normally right then.

---

**A/N: Once again, I welcome any corrections to my grammar/spelling or history. I have no beta. Please comment on my writing tone, sentence structure (I've been trying to make it more complex, but it's hard for me to really tell), voice, character, audience, plot (developing), POV. I will take any critique with an open mind. **


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